


one fell swoop

by myownremedy



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Breathplay, F/M, Light BDSM, Missing Scene, Off Screen Kink Negotiation, Past Sexual Abuse, Post Season 5 Christmas Special, The Jenna Thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 08:23:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5736559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myownremedy/pseuds/myownremedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m not working with them.” Toby says, ignoring the movie. “If I was I definitely wouldn’t be framing Spencer for murder.”<br/>“Yeah that makes sense, except for the part where I don’t believe a word you say.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	one fell swoop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [murderousdeer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/murderousdeer/gifts).



> **warnings for: mentions of past sexual abuse, PTSD, panic attacks, dissociation, light BDSM, breathplay, mentions of past violence**
> 
> This takes place during the 3 months between Season 5 Christmas Special and Season 5b. It was heavily inspired by the nightmare Spencer has in 3x17: [look at the gifset here.](http://mouthlikeawolf.tumblr.com/post/123544260029) If you need a refresher, just know that at this point in the show, everyone thinks Alison is A, they think Mona is dead (but haven't found a body), Spencer is out on bail for Bethany's murder, and Toby has a broken leg.
> 
> This is a surprise for Alex, who is the absolute light of my life. Unsure how much of an actual surprise this is as I'm terrible at keeping secrets, but here we are! Alex, I hope you like it!  
> title from _Macbeth_ by Shakespeare; you can find the exact part that is referenced [here](http://nfs.sparknotes.com/macbeth/page_174.html). apologies for pretension, but PLL is heavy with Macbeth references so I couldn't resist.  
>  unbeta'd, sorry for any typos.
> 
> Disclaimer: this is a transformative work. I make no money off of it. I do not own what inspired this work (Pretty Little Liars tv series), but I do own this work itself and hold full copyright over it. Please do not show to anyone involved in the tv show or put this up on another site such as Goodreads or Wattpad. Thank you.

_January_

 

When Toby gets permission to do ‘vigorous physical activity’ from his physical therapist, he goes straight from his physical therapy appointment to the Hastings house. He doesn’t bother to call ahead, knows Spencer will be there frowning down at her homework. A has been quiet since Christmas and Spencer is still out on bail, slowly working herself into a frenzy over the past month.

Unfortunately he hasn’t been able to help her work off her stress as much as he’d like, what with being in a wheelchair due to a broken leg, and then not being permitted to _do_ anything while his leg was recovering, but now –

“Spencer!” He calls as he lets himself into the house, locking the kitchen door behind him and toeing off his shoes. “Spencer!” He calls again, taking the stairs two at a time. His leg twinges, barely, and he ignores it. “Spencer, it’s Toby!”

Spencer opens the door as he reaches the landing and smiles at him. She’s wearing a loose grey shirt and sweatpants, her hair up in a messy knot, and she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Hi.” He says, smiling at her. She smiles back at him distractedly, clearly still thinking about her homework, but she wraps her arms around him when he hugs her and she sighs when he kisses her hair.

“Hey,” Spencer murmurs into his shoulder. “How was physical therapy?”

“Mmm, it was good.” Toby says, kissing her temple. “Are your parents here?”

“Nope.” Spencer says, popping the p. “Mom’s at work and won’t be back late – she has a hard case – and Dad’s on a business trip.” She pauses and stretches onto her tip toes to kiss him. “Why?” She asks when they break apart. There’s a smile hiding in the corner of her mouth and Toby kisses her again to feel her smile against his lips. This is his favorite Spencer smile; this is the smile that made him realize all he wanted was to keep making her smile at him like that, with one corner of her mouth higher than the other.

“Well,” Toby says, kissing her again, “I have been officially cleared for ‘vigorous physical activity.’” He lets go of Spencer with one hand to do the air quotes. “Which I’ve figured out means that I’m now allowed to go shoot people or go have sex.”

“Hm,” Spencer said, sneaking her hands under his shirt and running her hands up his sides. “And what would you prefer, Mr. Cavanaugh?” She asks, smiling up at him.

“Well, Miss Hastings,” Toby says, then abandons pretense completely and picks her up. She wraps her legs around his waist as she winds her arms around his neck, smiling up at him. “I think I would prefer to – mmph!” Spencer kisses him frantically as he carries her into her room, kicking the door shut behind them. She shoves at his jacket as he carries her over to her bed and when he tries to deposit her on the bed she tugs him down with her.

He shrugs off his jacket and starts unbuttoning his shirt as Spencer shucks off her shirt – one of his, he notes absently – and shimmies out of her sweats until she’s just in her panties. She tugs on the waist of his jeans and he knocks her hands out the way, unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his jeans and steps out of them.

“I’ve missed this,” Spencer says breathily as he drapes himself over her, kissing down her neck, down her shoulder and to her breast. She tugs him back up to her and kisses him fiercely, her hands gripping his shoulders.

He cups her cheek, strokes his thumb along her jaw as she nips at his lower lip, then drags his hand down her neck. Spencer has a beautiful neck, long and muscular and graceful, and he loves it, loves to kiss it.

He brushes his fingers against her throat and – she flinches. Toby freezes.

“Spence?” He asks, hand hovering over her neck. She doesn’t say anything, just gasps, and Toby rolls off of her and sits up.

“Sorry.” Spencer manages, curling into a ball, goose bumps erupting on her arms and legs. Toby grabs the shirt she was wearing and drapes it over her, careful not to touch her directly.

This happens sometimes, triggered unpredictably by things Toby cannot make sense of. He keeps a careful mental list, a list of things Spencer has never explained and Toby doesn’t want to ask about: saunas, Halloween, dolls, motorcycles, church bells, him wearing a leather jacket. It’s not a list of secrets so much as it’s a list of things Spencer can’t bear to relive or say out loud, not yet.

“Sorry.” Spencer repeats, sitting up and tugging on her shirt. “I just.” She shakes her head and fidgets with a stray thread from her duvet cover. “I had this nightmare, um.” She swallows hard. “After our anniversary.”

“After you found out about me.” Toby says, stiffening. He starts buttoning his shirt back up, just for something to do.

“I know, now, that you were a double agent.” Spencer says after a minute, shoulders still curling inward. Toby grabs his jacket and carefully drapes it around her shoulders. She burrows into it, pushes her nose into the collar. Her next words are slightly muffled. “But I didn’t then…”

“Spencer.” Toby whispers, wanting to touch her and not knowing if he can. They don’t talk about this, about how shattered Spencer was, about how she thought he was dead and ended up in Radley. Everything Toby knows is from Aria, Emily, and Hanna; they had cornered him one day and yelled at him. Aria had gotten into his face despite being almost a foot shorter than he was.

So he knows, sort of. Knows how broken Spencer was, knows enough that the guilt is unbearable.

“It’s –” Spencer clamps her mouth shut, because it’s not _fine_. She shakes her head. “I had this nightmare, right afterwards.” She’s carefully not looking at him. “We were here, in my room, and we were kissing, and you were touching my neck –”

“I love your neck.” Toby whispers. He feels like a moron. “It’s beautiful.”

Spencer smiles, still staring at her knees. “You were touching my neck,” she repeats, “and then suddenly you were A, and you were strangling me, and I couldn’t –” another gasp, “I couldn’t breathe. It was like I was on the Halloween train all over again, and the Queen of Hearts was strangling me, and I was going to die. I couldn’t breathe.”

“Spencer,” Toby pushes the palms of his hands into burning eyes. “I would never hurt you.” He says after a minute, removing his hands so he can look at her. “I would never, ever do that – I know that’s hard to believe because of what I did, but I would never –”

“What if I wanted you to?” Spencer asks and then winces. “That came out wrong.”

“How was it supposed to come out?” Toby snaps, recoiling.

“I want to stop having the nightmare.” Spencer is looking at him now, gaining confidence with every word. “I think if we recreate the…scenario in a positive way, I’ll stop having it.”

“So you want me to hurt you?” His voice sounds far away. Spencer reaches out to him and he flinches. “Don’t.”

“Toby.” Spencer sighs. It takes him a minute to realize that the situation has flipped, that he’s the one curling into himself. He’s aware of it but he’s not in control; he watches himself cower, flinching away from Spencer until she stops trying to touch him and instead shrugs off his jacket and lays it down in front of him.

“Toby.” Spencer says, and he recognizes that soothing tone from the first time this happened. He remembers Spencer unbuttoning his shirt and him flinching away, retreating to a corner of her bed room while she sat on the bed and talked to him until he came back to himself, until he calmed down.

She had never asked, and he had never explained. That’s what they do, that’s how they work.

“Toby.” Spencer repeats. “Toby, are you okay? Are you back?”

“I won’t.” He comes back to himself with monstrous effort. “I won’t hurt you, I won’t do that – I can’t.”

“Okay, that’s okay.” Spencer soothes. “I’m sorry for asking, I didn’t realize it would –” She pauses. “I’m sorry.”

“I have to go.” Toby stands, grabbing his jeans and stepping into them hurriedly.

“Okay.” Spencer says gently. “Will you call me later?”

“Yes.” Toby says, avoiding her eyes. He grabs his jacket and after a minute touches her face, watches her turn and kiss his palm.

He presses a kiss to her hair and flees.

 

*

 

He expects her to bring it up again. That’s what Spencer does – she pushes and pushes and pushes until she gets answers, until she gets her way. She’s like a dog with a bone, not content to wait or be kept in the dark.

So he waits, preparing his answer, preparing his ‘no’ that will make her stop asking.

But she doesn’t bring it up. January fades and he goes back to work, exercising to get his leg back up to full strength, and she doesn’t ask. Toby does everything he can to make her forget she’s out on bail for murder and she doesn’t ask. They fuck, Toby carefully not touching her neck, and she still doesn’t ask.

He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t _want_ her to ask, doesn’t want to turn her down again, but this isn’t like her.

He wants her to push, if only to show that everything’s back to normal, that they’re okay again.

“We’re okay, right?” Toby asks one night when they’re lying in bed together, their legs tangled beneath the blankets and his arm slung over her waist.

She turns over and props her head up on her hand, frowning at him. “Of course.” She says. “We’re good. Why wouldn’t we?”

Toby shakes his head. “Never mind,” he says, leaning over to kiss her. “C’mon, time to sleep, I have to be up early tomorrow.”

*

 

_February_

 

Toby gets home from a shift at work to find Caleb loitering outside his apartment. “Hey, man.” Toby says after a minute, moving past Caleb to unlock his door. “Did you need anything?”

“Yup.” Caleb says, fingering one of the straps of his backpack. “Can I come in?”

Toby sighs and opens the door wide, letting Caleb walk in before following him and shutting the door. Ordinarily he would take off his utility belt, detach the gun, taser, pepper spray, and magazines and stack them on his bedside table, but Caleb has a glint in his eyes that makes Toby pause.

“What’s up?” Toby asks, moving past him to the kitchen. He grabs two glasses out of the cupboard and sets them on the counter. “Do you want some water, or – something stronger?”

“I don’t do that anymore.” Caleb says after a pause, setting his backpack down with a thunk.

Water it is. Toby fills both glasses and sips his, leaning against the counter.

“A lot of stuff happened while I was away.” Caleb says suddenly. “I come back and suddenly A is more aggressive, is framing Spencer for murder and has killed Mona.” Caleb has no love for Mona, everyone knows that but he sounds angry enough on her behalf that Toby tilts his head.

“You think I have something to do with it.” He guesses. “You think I’m working with them again.”

Caleb shrugs. “It’s hard to trust you, man. Especially after that stunt you pulled last year.”

“I was double agent.” Toby reminds him. “I did it so I could protect Spencer.”

“Yeah, and look how that ended up.” Caleb snaps. “Listen, if you’re really not working with A then you won’t mind me looking at your computer and phone.”

Toby stares at him for a long moment and Caleb stares back, shifting subtly until his weight is balanced, like he’s looking for a fight.

Toby has spent enough time being Mona’s errand boy that he could step forward and make it menacing. He could take Caleb out with moves he learned from his cellmate and juvie gang he used to run with. Caleb is clearly waiting for him to do that, never mind Toby has three inches and fifty pounds on him, never mind Toby is armed with a gun, a taser and pepper spray.

“Sure.” Toby says, deliberately relaxing. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and tosses it to Caleb, who catches it easily. “Let me go get changed. Laptop’s over there.”

Caleb, expression carefully blank, nods at him. “Sure.” He echoes Toby. “Password for your laptop?”

“Same as my phone pin.” Toby says and leaves him to it. He follows his normal routine, stacking gun, taser, pepper spray, and magazines on his bedside table and putting his belt on his dresser before changing, hanging up his uniform and slipping into jeans and a sweater. It snowed last night and it’s cold enough outside that he cranks the heat and pulls on wool socks before padding back into the main room, where Caleb is sitting at Toby’s computer desk and frowning.

“Do you want me to put on a movie?” Toby asks, flopping down on other end of the couch.

“It’s up to you.” Caleb says. He stretches out one leg and hooks his foot through his backpack’s strap, tugging it close enough to him that he rummage through it and produce a cable for Toby’s phone. “I’m going to be here for a while.”

Toby is used to people not trusting him – is good at it, even. But he doesn’t like it and hates this, a facsimile of them hanging out as friends.

“Okay.” He says, grabbing the remote and turning the TV on. He wishes Spencer was here. He knows better than to invite her over, knows she would eviscerate Caleb for not trusting him.

But what reason has he given Caleb to trust him?

“You like Die Hard?”

“Yeah.” Caleb says, clearly not paying attention. Toby shrugs and leaves him to it.

 

Caleb shuts the laptop just as John McClane’s feet get cut up, spinning in the computer chair until he’s facing Toby and the TV. Toby glances at him and sees Caleb stack Toby’s phone on top of the laptop.

“Did I pass?” He asks dryly. Caleb shrugs.

“It seemed clean.” He’s still frowning. “But I’m going to check up on you regularly.”

“I’m not working with them.” Toby says, ignoring the movie. “If I was I definitely wouldn’t be framing Spencer for murder.”

“Yeah that makes sense, except for the part where I don’t believe a word you say.”

“Caleb…” Toby trails off. He’s always appreciated how up front and blunt Caleb is, and has always tried to return the favor. But this Caleb is new and prickly and so far out of Toby’s reach.

“See you around.” Caleb says, and lets himself out.

 

*

 

 

“How’s work?” Spencer asks. It’s a few days later and they’re walking from The Brew to the Hasting’s house. Spencer’s hair is up in an elegant bun and every time Toby looks at her he’s reminded of when she came over to his house and offered to be his French tutor.

“Fine.” Toby sips his coffee. “No news, no new leads on Bethany or Mona. How’s school?”

“Fine.” Spencer shrugs. “We’re studying _Macbeth_ and Alison is ruling the halls.”

“Alison is on _Macbeth’s_ level?” Toby raises his eyebrows.

“There’s a part of _Macbeth_ that reminds me of Alison, actually.” Spencer adjusts her scarf. “When MacDuff finds out that Macbeth had his whole family killed he compares Macbeth to a hawk swooping down on an animal.”

“‘One fell swoop,’” Toby quotes, and Spencer nods.

“Exactly.” She sips her coffee. “To do something all at once, usually something horrible…it reminds me of Ali.”

“Two birds, one stone.” Spencer nods. “Well, I’m glad Shakespeare invented a phrase to describe her.” Toby offers, smiling, and Spencer smiles crookedly back.

They walk in silence for a while, until downtown turns into houses.

“Hey,” Spencer says as someone up ahead turns onto the street they’re on. “Is that Lucas?”

Toby looks around. It is Lucas, walking ahead of them and clutching a slightly bedraggled bouquet.

“What is he doing here?” Spencer keeps her voice low. “He lives in the opposite direction.”

“Maybe he’s visiting Mona’s memorial. It’s just ahead.” Toby mutters. They watch Lucas turn the corner up ahead, out of sight.

“Come on.” Spencer says, slipping her gloved hand into Toby’s. “Let’s go.”

They walk quickly, rounding the corner. Up ahead is the Vanderwaal’s house, the memorial for Mona spilling over the sidewalk in front of it. Someone – probably Mrs. Vanderwaal – has shoveled the snow away from the memorial, though the flowers, crosses, and candles are covered by a thin layer of frost. Lucas is crouched in front of the memorial, carefully setting down his bouquet. As Toby and Spencer watch, he begins to rub the frost off of the framed picture of Mona.

“What –” Spencer says, then stops abruptly.

“I always wondered about them.” Toby murmurs.

“Mona and Lucas?” Spencer raises an eyebrow. “She bullied him mercilessly. Besides, she was with Mike.”

“Yeah, but –” he stops, doesn’t know how to finish his sentence, remembers almost running Lucas over with the SUV Mona had rented for him.

“They were tight, right before she died,” Spencer says after a minute. He can almost hear her thinking. “When Mona found out Alison was coming back, she tried to organize everyone Alison had ever bullied, meaning she made alliances with people she had also bullied.” Spencer shakes her head. “Listen to me – ‘alliances?’ We’re not at war.”

“Aren’t we?” Toby asks dryly. “C’mon, we need to keep walking or it’ll look like we’re spying on him.”

“Aren’t we?” Spencer echoes, but she obeys. “Lucas has been keeping a low profile at school. Caleb and Hanna are still friends with him, and he sits with me in study hall sometimes, but.” She takes a sip of her drink. “He’s spending more time with Jenna and Sidney than with us. I think Emily is relieved.”

Toby doesn’t understand and doesn’t ask.

“Speaking of Hanna,” Spencer says slowly, “she mentioned Caleb and you hung out a few days ago.”

Toby snorts. “Is that he’s calling it?” He asks under his breath.

“What?” Spencer demands.

Toby sighs. “Caleb…” he waves his free hand. “Caleb doesn’t trust me, so he came over and told me that if I wasn’t working with A, I would let him search my laptop and phone.”

“He did _what?!”_ Spencer is scary. Toby knows that, will never forget it, but sometimes he doesn’t appreciate it properly.

“It’s fine.” Toby offers her a small smile. “I’d rather he learn how to trust me again then never voice his suspicions.”

“It’s still _wrong_ ,” Spencer says heatedly, voice rising. “You were a double agent, you weren’t actually on the A team, you –”

“I still had to do a lot of stuff.” Toby interrupts, staring at the snowy sidewalk. “He’s right not to trust me. So much has changed since he went away.”

“Yeah, since he _left._ ” Spencer’s gesticulating so wildly that her coffee is about to spill; Toby reaches out and takes it from her. She barely notices. “He’s the one that decided to just up and leave to take care of some girl he had just met. Such a fucking dick move!” She turns and points at him. “You messed up, but you were trying to protect me.”

“And he is too, by doing this. He’s trying to protect all of you.”

“I still don’t like it.” Spencer inhales and suddenly Toby is reminded of the fashion show, when Mona had condescended to Spencer so badly that Toby was sure Spencer was going to draw blood then and there.

“Take a breath.” He says now, as he said then. “You don’t have to like it, Spencer. I think it’ll be good – he’ll learn that I’m on your side now.”

Spencer looks at him so intently that his breath stutters. “I know you’re on my side.”

“I don’t deserve you.” Toby tells her as she takes her coffee back. She smiles up at him crookedly, one corner a little higher than the other and he smiles back, helpless.

“I know.” Spencer says, sipping her coffee. “But I want you anyway.”

 

*

 

A week later Caleb shows up at Toby’s apartment again.

“Thanks for telling Spencer,” Caleb says acerbically as soon as Toby opens his front door. “I thought I was only going to have to deal with a lecture from Hanna when the girls found out but no, Spencer called me and yelled at me for twenty minutes.”

Toby holds the door wide. “Isn’t the whole point of this that I don’t keep secrets from Spencer anymore?”

“Is this really a secret?” Caleb asks, going over to the computer desk and sitting down. “I’m vetting you.” He spins in the chair. “By the way, I need your phone.”

“What if I have a burner?” Toby asks, shutting the door before walking over to give Caleb his phone.

“Is that how you guys communicated before?” Caleb asks, already typing.

“Mona is the one that set it up.” Toby shrugs. “It was a pretty sophisticated burner.”

“She’s good.” Caleb says grudgingly. “Was good. The encryption protecting her laptop is top notch.”

“I think people forgot how smart she was when she became Queen Bee.” Toby says, flopping down on the couch. He listens to Caleb type on his laptop for a second. “Hey, do you want some pizza?”

Caleb stops typing. “This isn’t a friend hang out.”

“It’s kind of a friend hang out.” Toby shrugs, knowing Caleb can’t see him. “Can’t you be friends with someone and not trust them?”

“No?” Caleb’s frown is audible. After a minute Toby hears him spin the computer chair. “Look, Toby, I _want_ to trust you. But I can’t let Hanna, or Spencer, or Emily, or Aria get hurt again.”

“I get that.” Toby says. “Why do you think I let you into my apartment?”

Caleb sighs. “If you order pizza I’ll have some, but don’t do it on my account.”

 

Thirty minutes later Caleb is picking the mushrooms off of his pizza with one hand and typing with the other.

“No movie this time?” Caleb asks at one point.

Toby holds up his copy of _Macbeth_.

“Hanna’s reading that too.” Caleb says around a mouthful of pizza. “She keeps getting Macbeth and Macduff confused.”

“Their class is reading it for school.” Toby says, turning a page. “Something Spencer said about it made me curious.”

“What did she say?”

“That it reminded her of Alison.”

“A play about the psychological damage caused by seeking power for power’s own sake reminds her of Alison…hm,” Caleb is smiling; Toby can hear it. “I get why they call her the smart one.”

“That’s not why.” Toby grins. “She said something about when Macduff finds out Macbeth has murdered his family…it’s where the phrase ‘in one fell swoop’ comes from.”

“Accomplishing many things at once?” Caleb asks over the sound of his typing. “Sounds like her.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Hmph.” Caleb shuts the laptop. “Heads up!” he says, throwing Toby’s phone. Toby grabs it easily.

“Did I pass?” Toby asks, setting down _Macbeth_ and his phone to grab a slice of pizza.

“For now.” Caleb says. “See you in a while.”

 

*

 

For Valentine’s day, Toby takes Spencer out to a restaurant in Philadelphia. It’s fancy enough for a Hastings, meaning Toby has been saving up for it for a while. Spencer had mentioned in an offhand sort of way that meant it was anything but that this might be their ‘last Valentine’s day’ and Emily had texted him frequent reminders about it so he’s gone all out, rented a tuxedo and everything. Spencer wears dark red lipstick and a wicked smile and has one stocking foot pressed up against his dick under the table for the entire meal.

“What did you mean when you said you wanted to reenact your nightmare?” Toby asks without meaning too. Spencer, about to take a bite of her filet mignon, pauses and puts down her fork.

“It’s called breathplay.” She says after a minute. “I would tell you about my nightmare and if you were on board we would re-enact it but there would be,” she gestures with one graceful hand, “safe words and consent. I think it would be good, but we don’t have to do it. We won’t do it, unless you want to.”

“How would you be sure I wouldn’t hurt you?” Toby asks when Spencer picks up her fork again. He hadn’t meant to this bring this up here, now, but Spencer is watching him so intently that he can’t help but shiver. Her foot presses harder against him and he grunts.

“There are different techniques.” Spencer answers. “I’ve done a lot of research.”

Toby can’t help but smile. “Of course you have.”

Spencer narrows her eyes at him.

“My Spencer,” Toby says, in order not to say ‘I love you.’ “Always doing research.”

 

Later, as she’s climbing on top of him in his apartment, her hair falling down her back, Toby kisses her jaw.

“I don’t want to do the neck thing tonight,” he whispers in her ear. “But – I want –”

“To kiss my neck?” Spencer asked, unzipping his rented slacks impatiently. Her dress, the same maroon as her lipstick, is rucked up around her thighs. She produces a condom from her tiny purse – _a clutch_ , Spencer had explained once, rolling her eyes, _it’s called a clutch_ – and rips the foil packet open impatiently.

“Yes,” Toby breathes, unzipping her dress so he can smooth one hand down the line of her spine. “Can I, can I –” He gasps as Spencer rolls the condom onto his dick and Spencer laughs as his dick flexes in her grip.

“Yeah,” Spencer gasps as she sinks onto him, having impatiently just shoved her panties aside. Toby kisses down her neck, then sinks his teeth into where her neck meets her shoulder and feels Spencer clench.

“Okay?” He asks, curling his hands around her hips as she sets the pace.

“Yes, yeah, I’ve – ah, been thinking about this all night.” Spencer tosses her hair and leans forward to kiss him.

“This is all I ever think about.” Toby whispers against her lips, grinning.

Spencer moves her hips in a way that makes him gasp. “Good,” she says, grinding down against him. “I would – oh,” she breaks off when Toby starts touching her, rubbing at her clit.

“What was that?” Toby asked, biting her shoulder again.

“Fuck. Off.” Spencer whines. “More.”

“As you wish,” Toby says, moving his fingers faster. Spencer opens her mouth, probably to yell at him, but comes suddenly, clenching down and slumping forward. Toby has been on the edge this whole time and follows quickly, burying his face against her shoulder.

After a minute Spencer gets off of him, shedding her dress. Toby stands and manages to kick off his slacks before going to discard the condom. When he gets back Spencer is naked and sprawled out on his bed. She’s folded his slacks for him; Toby hangs them and his blazer up before taking off his shirt and pulling on a fresh pair of boxer briefs.

“Hi,” he says, walking over to the bed. “Are you sleeping here tonight?”

“Mmm,” Spencer manages. She gets like this after sex, all boneless and sleepy. “No. But I can stay for a while.”

“D’you want to get under the covers?”

“Fine.”

Toby crawls into bed with her and lets her pillow her head on his chest, running his fingers through her hair absently.

“Did you mean it?” Spencer asks after a while, propping her bony chin on his chest so she can look at him. It’s not the most comfortable arrangement; Spencer’s chin is sharp enough to bruise.

“Mean – oh.” Toby looks up at the ceiling. “I’m thinking about it.” He answers finally.

“You don’t have to.” Spencer tells him, laying her head down again. “We don’t have to do it.”

“But you think it might help.”

“That’s not the point, Toby. I don’t want to do it if you don’t want to. And if you do decide you want to and then change your mind later you can.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead. “What’s it called again?”

“Breathplay. It’s…kind of a BDSM thing.”

“I’ll look into it.” He promises. “Did you have a good night?”

Spencer stretches out, her toes digging into his calves, and kisses him. “The best.”

“Good.”

 

*

 

On his next payday Toby rummages around until he’s found his old Eddie Lamb ID for Radley, takes the train to Philadelphia, withdraws cash from an account no one knows he has doesn’t know about, and sets up shop in an internet café.

He realizes as he shows the cashier his Eddie Lamb ID that he’s acting like he’s committing a crime, not researching sex for his girlfriend, but – both being A and being hunted by A has given him enough incentive to cover his tracks, especially for something like this.

Spencer had somehow forgotten to mention that breathplay was something a lot of ‘professional’ BDSM people refuse to do, due to the fact it’s not ‘safe’ or ‘sane.’ This leads him to getting briefly lost in an article about the two opposing philosophies of BDSM: Safe, Sane, Consensual as opposed to Risk Aware Kink. He thinks Spencer must be a risk aware kink kind of girl and clicks out of the article, goes back to researching how breathplay works. As far as he can tell, it’s kind of like gently strangling your partner. Sounds exactly like what Spencer wants.

He knows that Spencer probably has prints out organized by section and color in a binder for him to look at, but he wants to do his own research for something like…this.

Consent is emphasized, which he likes. Safewords are emphasized, which he also likes. Diagrams of the anatomy of the neck are emphasized, which is both good and terrifying.

He thinks about Spencer’s neck as he reads, thinks about how one of his hands is big enough to cover her entire throat. It makes him sweat.

He creates a new email account, emails all the links to himself, closes the account, erases the history in the browser for the past six months, and pays before walking to the train station.

It’s not quite up to snuff – he knows from Mona that his history is still buried in the depths of the hard drive – but he doesn’t know how to do anything more. Maybe he should get Caleb to teach him how to hack, if Caleb ever trusts him again.

More likely, he should get Spencer to teach him. Or just do his research at Spencer’s house.

He tries to imagine having to explain why he was googling ‘bdsm breathplay’ to Mr. and Mrs. Hastings and bursts out laughing on the train.

 

*

 

Caleb shows up on the last Sunday of February. Toby lets him in and surrenders his phone without having to be prompted.

“Thanks,” Caleb says, heading to the computer desk like always.

“Yup.” Toby says, flopping into the couch, like always. He finished _Macbeth_ a while ago. Spencer had lent him _Wuthering Heights_ ; Emily had lent him Keith Richards autobiography, Aria had recommended an Ezra Pound book of poetry, and Hanna had told him he needed to watch more TV.

He’s beginning to think Hanna is right.

“What if I did everything on a burner?” Toby asks after fifteen minutes, half expecting Caleb to ignore him.

“Doubt it.” Caleb answers, his typing not pausing. “Being A means a lot of text messages and calls, sure, but it also means research and moving money around.”

“Are you tracking my debit card statements?” Toby asks after a minute, sitting up to stare at the back of Caleb’s head.

“Yeah.” Caleb says flatly.

Toby thinks of the account nobody knows about and shuts his eyes for a minute. “How long is it going to take you to trust me?”

Caleb stops typing, then spins in the chair to frown at Toby. “I don’t know.” He says honestly, running a hand through his hair. Toby sort of misses his long hair. “I don’t know if I ever will. I don’t trust anyone anymore.

“What about Hanna?”

“I love Hanna. Of course I trust her, that goes without saying.” Caleb shakes his head. “But everyone else? I don’t know.”

“Okay, all of that aside – do you really think I’d let Spencer hide in Alison’s house while A was wandering around with a knife?” Toby stands without really meaning too. “Do you really think I’d risk her like that? Or Hanna?”

“How did A get in? You were supposed to be keeping watch.”

“How does A get anywhere?!” Toby yells. “I signaled them but they didn’t see. Hanna was in the attic and Spencer was facing away from me. You know all of this, Caleb!”

“I don’t buy it!” Caleb is shouting now, too. “You have an answer for everything, but if Alison is A – we all have secrets, Toby, but you? You’ve been in Alison’s pocket since the beginning!”

“ _What?”_ Toby doesn’t recognize his own voice.

“Why did you take the fall for the Jenna Thing?” Caleb demands, stepping into his space.

Toby says nothing.

“That’s what I thought.” Caleb snaps. “I don’t know what it is or how it happened,” he continues, “but I know that she has something on you, and if she is A then you can’t be trusted. Hell, even if she isn’t A you can’t be trusted.”

“She doesn’t have anything on me anymore.” Toby says finally, curling one hand into a fist. He’s far away again, watching this conversation at a distance. “Ask Hanna.”

“What _did_ she have on you?”

“Ask Hanna.” Toby repeats.

Caleb exhales in frustration. “You can’t just tell me?”

“No.” Toby says, turning and opening his apartment door. “It’s time for you to go.”

Caleb glares at him but he obeys, storming out. Toby stands in his apartment, staring at nothing, until his laptop dings, informing him the scan Caleb was running is done.

 

*

 

Spencer, 4:48 PM

_Still on for tonight? M+D are visiting Melissa in London._

Toby, 4:51 PM

_Yes. Let me get all of the stuff and I’ll be right over._

He’s nervous. He and Spencer have gone over this countlessly, Spencer walking him through the nightmare, what she was wearing, what he was wearing, how he touched her and what she wanted. The technique they were going to use, the traffic light system, and how to make it as safe as possible.

He goes over all of it again as he drives over there, black gloves and hoodie in the passenger seat, the rain drumming on the roof of his truck.

He parks in the driveway. Spencer is in her room, the light on and the curtains half open. There’s a light on in the barn, too. Emily and Aria are having a slumber party there. Toby had insisted that Spencer tell at least one of them what was going to happen, in case – in case –

 

Spencer, 5:26 PM

_It’s going to be fine. Are you ready?_

Toby, 5:27 PM

_Green?_

 

Spencer, 5:28 PM

_Green._

 

The last time he snuck into The Hastings house while it was thunder storming, everything had gone horribly, horribly wrong. Toby lets himself in with one shaking gloved hand, shutting the door softly behind him. He draws the hood up over his head and listens. The rain is loud enough to be distracting, muting all other sounds, but he can hear Spencer pacing.

He walks up the stairs slowly, heart in his throat, trailing one hand glove along the bannister.

Spencer had explained to him how the nightmare had started, what she had been wearing, and where they had been standing. When he opens the door he sees she’s recreated it down the last detail, standing with her back to the door, dressed in leggings and a bustier.

When Spencer had caught him on their anniversary she had looked like an avenging angel, blue-white in the eerie light of the storm, face carefully set. Tonight she looks like burnished gold as she turns to face him, her eyes going wide.

The panic on her face is wild enough to be real, and Toby had expected this, had even brought it up as a concern. Which is why he lets Spencer stare him, the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up, until Spencer nods very faintly.

And Toby – Toby is ashamed to realize how much he’s missed this.

One minute he’s in the doorway, the next he’s in front of her, pressing his mouth against hers, cupping her face with one hand. Her pulse leaps under his touch as she kisses him, gasping at little at his touch. He runs his free hand down her neck, rubbing his thumb over her throat and she gasps again.

She bites his lip as he walks forward until the back of her knees hit the back of the bed, until Spencer is stretched to her full height, winding her arms around his neck.

Slowly, gently, he stops kissing her and cups her face, then slides his hands down lower until he’s wrapped both of his hands around her neck, thumbs pointing up at her chin.

Spencer obeys her eyes and stairs up at him, her pulse racing, her hands scrabbling at his wrists. Toby knows that at this point in the nightmare he had started choking her for real, had squeezed and lifted her up off her feet. But here, now, he just leans forward to kiss her again, hands loose enough on her neck that she could break his hold if she pulled away.

It’s too dangerous to do anything else.

He releases her, shoving at her shoulders until she falls back on the bed. This, at least, is familiar; he drapes himself over her, kisses down her neck, down her chest, biting at her breast through the fabric of the bustier, then kisses down her belly until he reaches the waistband of her leggings.

Spencer lifts her hips up as he hooks his thumbs in her leggings and tugs them down, pulling them off of her and tossing them aside. Spencer props herself up at her elbows and stares at him, her beautiful eyes dark, as Toby kisses the inside of her left thigh. She shudders as he kisses her clit, as he moves lower, breathing out against her until she shudders again.

This is a detour from the plan but it’s necessary, Toby thinks as he licks against her clit, pinning down Spencer’s hips with one arm. He wonders what he looks like, going down on her while dressed in his A hoodie, face partially obscured by her and partially the black hood.

Black is supposed to make you look smaller but it’s always made Toby feel more powerful, more dangerous. He scrapes his teeth gently over Spencer’s clit and she whines, shuddering as he rubs his stubble against the inside of her thigh. Then he stands, tossing a condom down on the bed before unbuckling his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. He shoves his jeans and boxer briefs down as Spencer sits up, tearing open the wrapper and rolling the condom onto his dick. He reaches out and wraps a hand around her neck, not squeezing, just holding for a minute, and she freezes and looks up at him, chest heaving.

They lay back down, Toby draping himself over Spencer and lining himself up with one hand, pushing in and feeling rather than hearing Spencer gasp. He kisses her cheeks, her nose, holding himself up with one arm and she grabs his free hand. She pulls until his hand and wrist is pressing against her throat, and she holds it there as he begins to thrust.

It’s a perfect compromise: this way she’s controlling how much pressure he exerts, how much she can breathe, and if she starts to pass out her grip holding his arm in place will loosen until she can breathe again. It’s the only reason Toby agreed to do this, but now, as Spencer stares up at him, gasping a little, he can’t deny that he likes this. Spencer, in control even when she’s pinned down beneath him, using him to get rid of her nightmares. Spencer, her body clutching him tighter and tighter, fingers digging into his arm and mouth slightly open.

“Good?” Toby rumbles, snapping his hips against her. He can feel her seizing up in that way that means she’s close, her eyelids fluttering, and he grinds down against her, trying to stimulate her clit with his pelvis, moving his hips in tiny circles until he feels her sob, until she clamps down on his arm and moans, eyes shut and mouth going slack.

He speeds up, propping himself up with both arms now, thrusting faster and faster until he follows her over the edge with a gasp.

 

“Toby.” Spencer is saying quietly, running her arms down his back. He sighs, tucking his nose into the crook of her neck, and feels her push his hood off. “Toby.” She says again.

“Mmmph.” Toby grunts, rolling off of her and onto his back. He struggles with his gloves for a minute before tugging them off with his teeth and throwing them over the side of the bed. He roots around for the condom wrapper and Spencer presses it into his hand; when he turns to look, she’s laying on her side, head pillowed by one arm, and she’s smiling.

“Good?” Toby asks, standing and getting rid of the condom. He sheds his jeans, shirt, and hoodie, pulling his boxer briefs back on, and grabs Spencer’s leggings and panties on his way back to bed.

“Great.” Spencer says, yawning. Toby knee walks across the bed until he’s looking down at her. Her neck, her perfect fucking neck, is unblemished.

“Text Emily and Aria?” He asks, wriggling under the covers and holding them up so Spencer can slip in beside him.

Spencer snatches her phone off of her bedside table and calls Emily even as she rests her head on Toby’s chest.

“Hey,” she says into the phone. Toby puts an arm around her shoulders. “Yeah. It was good, everything went well.” She pauses, humming into the phone. “No, I think we’re done. You guys can go home if you want – no, you can absolutely stay. I might come visit you if you’re still up in a few hours.” She laughs. “Thanks for this. Thank Aria for me, okay? Love you, bye.”

“I’d say it went better than well.” Toby says after she hangs up, pressing a kiss to her hair. She smiles crookedly at him and he leans over to kiss the corner of her mouth.

“It was good,” Spencer says, sighing against his shoulder. “Intense, but good. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Toby yawns. “I didn’t think I would like it as much as I did, and I think it was good to do. A way to leave everything behind.”

“Exactly.” Spencer says, moving until she’s spooning him. Toby turns obligingly and feels her smile against the back of his neck. “Sleep now?”

“Mhm.” Toby sighs. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

 

*

_March_

 

He finds Hanna outside The Brew a few days later, cradling two lattes and frowning down at the snow-strewn sidewalks.

Grief has made Hanna softer, rounder, the black in her hair and wardrobe disappearing as she returned to a quieter version of herself. Toby has been avoiding her because of it, reminded of his own grief, his own losses.

“Hanna!” he calls out and she turns to look at him, uncurling one hand to wave at him.

“Oh, hey, Toby.” She says when he falls into step with her. “What’s up?”

He thinks about asking her how she’s been but he knows the answer, and he doesn’t want to break her out of the quiet she’s carved out for herself.

“Nothing much. What about you?”

“I’m on my way to meet Emily.” Hanna answers, walking delicately around a patch of ice. Toby doesn’t know how anyone wears heels, let alone in the snow. Even Spencer doesn’t wear heels as high as Hanna’s, and Spencer can do anything.

“Cool.” Toby says. Then: “How much does Caleb know about The Jenna Thing?” he asks, unable to think of a less abrupt way to ask it.

Hanna seems to come into focus, and the glance she throws him is sharp and unreadable.

“He knows what happened.” She admits quietly, and Toby wonders how many other secrets Caleb knows, how many other things Hanna has entrusted to him.

“But not why I took the fall for it?” Toby asks after a minute and watches with interest as Hanna flinches, sees her grip on her coffees go from casual to white knuckled and then back again. She’s good – but she’s had to be. They all have, these girls, the subjects of so much torment and fascination and obsession.

“No.” Hanna stops walking and turns to him, her chin jutting out dangerously. “That’s private.”

This is the most solid she’s been in months, defending his right to his own secret to him, and Toby smiles at her.

“I need you to tell him.” He says, purposefully relaxing his shoulders so he’s not looming over Hanna. He doesn’t know if she knows he was the one that set up that fake interview and chased her through those mannequins; she’s never asked and he’s never brought it up. He never wants her to ask. He doesn’t want to give anyone a reminder of what he did, so he avoids hoodies and the color black, schools his body language and expression to be mild and inviting instead of threatening.

But his uniform is black, and he thinks A must have someone on the police force – Alison has Holbrook in her pocket, at least. The A Team and police force keeps blurring, secrets and lies and legality overlapping.

Hanna’s brow furrows. “Why?” she asks. “Don’t you – I mean –”

“He needs to know.” Toby wishes he wasn’t in uniform. He should have waited. “It’ll simplify things.”

Hanna looks down at the coffee cup that must be hers, at the lip-gloss smear on the lid. “How did you know that I knew?” She asks after a minute.

“I knew Emily would tell you.” Toby confesses. “It was easier just to…tell her, and let her tell the rest of you.”

“We knew before that.” Hanna looks up at him, blue eyes serious. “I – I stole Jenna’s file from her therapist.”

“I know.” Toby remembers Emily telling him that, halting, still convinced he was going to try and hurt her.

“And –” Hanna swallows and stands up straighter. “Someone taped it.”

“Spencer told me.” Toby unclenches his jaw. “She said she threw the flash drive at Ian in the Church and it got lost.”

“And then Ted found it.” Hanna says.

“He – he has it? It’s –”

“He gave it to my mom and she destroyed it.” Hanna’s mouth twists. “I should have told you, I’m sorry, it just happened so quickly –”

“Why?” Some part of Toby manages to ask, the part that isn’t reeling. Hope, given and snatched away again in less than twenty words.

“There were other videos on there, there was one of her –” Hanna cuts herself off again. “I’m sorry.” She repeats after a minute. “I should have told you, but you weren’t here.”

Toby stares at the space over her shoulder, unseeing, mind whirring.

Hanna presses one of the coffee cups, the one that must be hers, into one of his hands. He curls both hands around it and lets its warmth ground him.

“Does this have alcohol in it?” He asks, and Hanna rolls her eyes at him.

“No.” she mutters. “I stopped that a while ago.”

“Shame.” Toby mutters and sips it, then makes a face. He hates soy milk. “I should go.”

“Yeah.” Hanna takes her coffee back.

“Tell Caleb?” Toby asks, checking his watch. “And say hi to Emily for me.”

“I will.” Hanna promises. “Tell Spencer to text me back.”

 

*

 

Caleb shows up a day later. Toby opens the door and stares at him.

“This again?”

“Can we talk?” Caleb asks, shifting from one foot to the other. Toby sighs and lets him in.

“What’s up?” He asks.

Caleb’s hands are stuffed in his pockets. “I talked to Hanna.” He says after a minute, sounding like each word is being forced out of him. “And…” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed – it wasn’t any of my business.”

“It’s okay.” Toby says, and he means it. “It was about time you knew, I guess. All the girls know.”

“Hanna told me what you said when you talked to her.” Caleb scuffs his shoe along the floor. “It sounds like you don’t really like talking about it.”

“Why would I?” Toby asks after a minute. “I don’t –” he scrubs a hand over his face. “I don’t like telling people. I don’t like it when they treat me differently, like –”

“I understand.” Caleb says in an odd tone of voice.

Toby thinks back on what he knows about Caleb, what Spencer and Hanna have told him, and relaxes. “I suppose you do.”

“Can I sit?” Caleb asks, gesturing at the couch and Toby nods, sitting on one end and watching Caleb take the other end. “I just.” Caleb rubs the back of his neck. “Why isn’t Jenna in jail?”

“She told me that if I told anyone she would lie and say that I forced myself on her.”

“What the _fuck_.” Caleb mutters, crossing his arms. “But you didn’t blind her.”

“No, that was Alison, and it was –” _an accident_ , Toby wants to say, but he doesn’t know if it was. He doesn’t know anything.

“I would have blinded her.” Caleb’s tone is as harsh as Toby’s ever heard it, and he meets Toby’s gaze squarely. “If she wasn’t blind now I’d go do it for you.”

“…what?” Toby asks.

“I would have blinded her for you, if you wanted.” Caleb settles back against the couch. “I would have gone and meted out some vigilante justice.”

“Thanks,” Toby says, his mind whirring. “But I just want to live my life and stay away from her.”

“Sounds good.” Caleb says, nodding. “So, are we okay?”

“This is all it took?” Toby raises his eyebrows.

“You say that like it’s such a little thing.” Caleb sighs. “Alison knew about the two of you and she did nothing? She just used it to make you take the fall? Yeah, there’s no way you’re working with her.”

“But –”

“I know you, Toby.” Caleb says, running a hand through his hair. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Okay,” Toby says and sees Caleb relax. “Alright.”

“Now – want to watch a movie?” Caleb asks. “I still haven’t seen the new Batman.”

“Sure.” Toby says. “Should we go rent it?”

“Naw,” Caleb gets up and goes to Toby’s laptop. “I can just torrent it here – d’you mind?” It’s so different from how the last few times he used Toby’s laptop that Toby smiles.

“Go ahead.” Toby says, flapping a hand at him. “Let me just text Spencer and tell her we’re having a movie night.”

Caleb smiles at him again, his face lighting up, and Toby smiles back, relieved.

 

*

 

Toby finds Alison loitering across the street from the Vanderwaal’s house, staring at the memorial with the large framed photo of Mona staring out at them. Lucas’s flowers are still there, nestled among other bouquets and half melted candles and stuffed animals. Toby has an abrupt vision of the memorial staying there forever, trapping them with reminders of Mona the way they used to be trapped with reminders of Alison.

“Toby.” Alison says when he stops in front of him. She doesn’t bother to look at him, just keeps staring at the Vanderwaal’s, pink lips pursed like the house has displeased her.

“Alison.” He says quietly. She looks the same, long blond hair and heavy lashes, the hip tilt and head cock and sultry smile, the face that he still dreams about. “I need to ask you something.”

“Should I call my lawyer?” Alison sounds bored.

“No.” Toby takes a step closer. “I’m not here as a police officer. Just Toby. Just you and me.”

“Like old times.” Alison glances up at him, smirking. “What do you want, Toby?”

“Why did you do it?” He feels like his entire life has been leading up to this question. “Why did you blind Jenna? You knew she was in the shed.”

Alison rolls her eyes and looks back at the Vanderwaal’s. “This again?”

He could say a hundred things, could list all of the things he’s worked out while lying awake and staring at the ceiling, Spencer asleep beside him. Alison blinded Jenna because Jenna was a threat; Alison did it and tricked the girls into helping her so she’d have yet another thing to hold over their heads; Alison did it and got Toby out of the way, not interested in someone she couldn’t order around like a dog. Two birds, one stone.

But they had been friends, once, inasmuch as one could _be_ friends with Alison, and Alison…

“Did you do it for me?” He finally asks.

Time slows down as Alison turns to look at him, her hair rasping against her red trench coat. For a minute he thinks he’s looking at the real Alison, maybe even the real A, all the lies peeled away until she’s just looking at him, blue eyes clear and mouth slightly open. It all adds up, the things they’ve done, the people they’ve hurt, moves they’ve made. From the way Alison is looking at him he thinks that she must know it all, even the things he hasn’t told Spencer. This is Alison’s power, convincing you that she understands you when she’s just a mastermind reading your tells – until it’s all too real. Until they’re standing outside the house of someone she may have murdered and he’s calmly asking her about another crime she committed, a crime he took the fall for – a crime he sometimes thinks wasn’t a crime at all.

“People always get what they deserve.” Alison promises, raising her chin. She glances over at the Vanderwaal’s house one more time, at the memorial with the picture of Mona staring unblinkingly at them, before turning her back on it all.

“See you at the funeral.” Alison tells him, and walks off.

**Author's Note:**

> [visit me on tumblr!](http://marnz.tumblr.com/) prompts welcome.


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